


the world is turning on gliding fireworks (you beside me)

by Dawn_Blossom



Series: Chrom/Grima in Askr [3]
Category: Fire Emblem Heroes
Genre: Chrom POV, Chrom and Grima go on a date to the summer festival, Fireworks, Fluff, M/M, Summer Festival, candy apples, hand-holding, well except for the fleeting moment where Chrom thinks about Emmeryn but that passes quickly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-19
Updated: 2018-08-19
Packaged: 2019-06-29 16:36:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15733308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dawn_Blossom/pseuds/Dawn_Blossom
Summary: Kiran gives them some accessories, so Chrom and Grima decide to go to the Hoshidan summer festival.





	the world is turning on gliding fireworks (you beside me)

**Author's Note:**

> I'm posting this the day before my classes start for the semester and boy do I need the fluff to carry me through.
> 
> Okay so this was sort of inspired by a couple of pieces of art: [this one](https://twitter.com/dkenpisss_/status/1029409571977101312), which I spent a good hour crying over (they're so CUTE UGH) and [this one](http://the-priestess-of-dawn.tumblr.com/post/177043374673/cenpede-grrrima-since-i-have-finally-merged-him), which made my brain go fhfhhfhfhffhfhh
> 
> The title is from [Revolution Earth by The B-52's](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9QagbMeaWdk%22)
> 
> Anyway, I hope you'll enjoy the fic!

Grima has been staring at Ryoma for four and a half minutes. Chrom has counted them exactly. Fortunately, Ryoma is too focused on his dancing to notice Grima’s intense gaze. It’s not a glare, but Chrom doubts that anyone unfamiliar with Grima’s body language would know that.

“He’s doing a great job, isn’t he?” Chrom murmurs, nudging Grima slightly. “I wonder how long he practiced for the festival. I hear it’s a Hoshidan tradition, so he probably has years of experience…”

Grima finally averts his gaze from the dancer.

“His dedication should please the god his people worship,” he says. “Though he looks foolish doing something so frivolous. The Dawn Dragon must be incredibly asinine.”

“The Hoshidan summer festival is a time for people to come together in peace and unity.” Chrom says, recalling the smile on Ryoma’s face when he had explained it. “They hold this event to honor the dead, but it’s also a celebration of life. It gives people strength to carry on. It’s not a matter of goofing off.”

Grima looks incredulously at Chrom.

“It’s not a matter of goofing off,” he repeats drily. “Did anyone explain that to the Askrans?”

Chrom hears a loud laugh behind him. When he turns around, he spots Sharena twirling around and attempting to drag Kiran into a dance.

“Wait, wait! I don’t know how to dance!” Kiran cries. “Except the Cha-Cha Slide, but—”

Kiran cuts themself off when they catch sight of Chrom and Grima.

“Oh, hey, I was looking for you two!” they exclaim, waving their arms. One accidentally smacks Sharena in the face, which makes her step back with a pout.

Chrom chuckles as he walks over. Grima scowls, but he still follows a few paces behind.

“The enemy commander had better be at our door, Summoner,” Grima says. “It’s late. I don’t feel like being sent out for something trivial.”

“Oh, no, it’s nothing like that,” Kiran says, laughing. “Actually, I just wanted to give you something. Here, let me just…”

From the inside pockets of their cloak, Kiran pulls out… accessories.

“Look, Grima, it’s a dragon mask!” they exclaim cheerfully, shoving it into Grima’s hands before he can reject it.

Grima grimaces.

“This…,” he says, “is an abomination… Dragons do not smile like… _this._ ”

“Perhaps they do in Hoshido,” Chrom says. 

“Then perhaps all the dragons in that place are asinine.” Slowly, Grima places the small mask over the side of his face. “There. Is that what you wanted? To see me look ridiculous, too?”

Kiran places a hand over their chest.

“Adorable,” they whisper.

Chrom agrees, but Grima won’t want to hear it. 

“It’s, er, far more stylish than that ‘yellow ducky’ Kiran asked you to wear last month,” he says. Grima had looked adorable then, too, but he had not appreciated the other heroes snickering when they passed him. Chrom had barely saved the little toy from vicious annihilation.

Grima sneers, presumably remembering the same thing.

“Oh, and Chrom, I got you something, too. I couldn’t find any masks that felt right for you, but I did find this flower hairpin! Try it on!”

Chrom chuckles at Kiran’s enthusiasm. The floral hair ornament is delicate, but once he gets it into place, it seems secure enough. 

“How do I look?” he asks, tilting his head. The hairpiece makes him feel a little lopsided, but it isn’t uncomfortable.

“Perfect!” Kiran claps their hands together.

“It…” Grima flushes slightly. “It suits someone like _you._ ”

Chrom laughs.

“That’s a terrible compliment. Or a terrible insult, if that’s what you were going for.” He shakes his head. “Come on and tell me what you really think.”

Grima averts his gaze.

“Was my meaning that unclear to you?” he asks. “I think that you are beautiful. The silly human accessory serves to highlight the fact.”

Warmth floods Chrom’s heart at the words. Even if the sentiment was implied before, it’s nice to hear it spoken so plainly. Sometimes, he wonders if he is growing dull in Grima’s eyes. He does not have much to offer, only his strength in battle and his company outside of it. Grima says he needs him, but needing and wanting are very different things. Chrom wants to catch his lover’s eye even when Grima is not lonely, upset, or pained… 

“You both look very festive!” Kiran says. “And say, now that you’re dressed for it anyway, you really ought to check the festival out! You’re some of the hardest-working heroes here, so you definitely deserve to have some fun!”

Chrom glances at Grima, sure that he’s about to refuse for the both of them.

But Grima just shuffles slightly and crosses his arms.

“I would not stand out so much in this mask there,” he says. “And… all the worms are so entertained. Perhaps I might find it… amusing...”

Chrom can’t keep himself from grinning at the words. 

“Let’s give it a try, then,” he says. “It’s a date.”

“... So it is,” Grima agrees.

Kiran pumps their fist into the air.

“I’ll leave you guys to it,” they say, grinning as they start walking backwards. They end up tripping over Sharena behind them, but she catches them just in time, spinning them around.

“Hey, you’re a natural dancer!” Sharena exclaims.

“I don’t think that counts,” Kiran says. “That was just falling… with style...” They laugh suddenly. “You know what? Sure. Let’s dance. Just make sure you catch me again if I fall.”

“Well of course!” Sharena giggles, grabbing Kiran’s hands and twirling them around.

Grima snorts.

“I refuse to participate in something so ridiculous,” he says. “It would be one thing if I understood the ceremonial moves, but I refuse to wriggle mindlessly like the other worms…”

“We don’t have to dance,” Chrom says. “Even if I were familiar with this style, I’m not sure I would care to. I’m not quite as sprightly as… er, even other versions of me.”

He’s lived with the remnants of his old injuries for long enough that he is accustomed to them. But he can just imagine bending or stepping the wrong way or gods forbid tripping like Kiran and then falling. Further injury could threaten his usefulness in battle. And he does not think his pride could take the hit.

Grima narrows his eyes, and Chrom can see the flash of guilt in them. It’s misplaced, though; the worst of Chrom’s injuries were caused by the Plegian assassins who murdered Emmeryn, and Grima did not send them. Robin, Grima, had been right there with him, cursing himself for not protecting Chrom, both of them cursing themselves for not saving Emmeryn…

“There are plenty of other things to do,” Chrom says quickly. Drowning in guilt is no way to honor the dead. This festival is a much better means of doing so. Emmeryn would love to see so many people coming together in harmony… He has to hold onto that thought. “There are many different stalls, according to Ryoma. To be honest, I started losing track of what he was telling me.”

“He started using Hoshidan words you couldn’t understand,” Grima says, his tone flat “I’m right, aren’t I? He did the same to me. My mind is sharper than a human’s, but even I cannot pick up an unfamiliar language without any time to study.”

Chrom smiles.

“Then let’s go immerse ourselves,” he says. “I’m interested to see how a Hoshidan festival differs from the ones in Ylisse.”

Though it is late enough to be quite dark outside, the festival itself is brightly lit; lanterns are strung all over, giving a welcoming air to the scene.

“It’s very lively…” Grima murmurs. He steps forward slowly, thoughtfully… like he’s drawn by an external force. “There is great power here. A blessing for the humans.”

“From the Dawn Dragon?” Chrom guesses.

“I suppose so,” Grima says. 

Shaking his head, he begins walking forward. Chrom follows behind him, not sure of exactly where they’re going. Grima clearly doesn’t have any place in mind, and for a while, they just wander. They pass several different stands for festival games, but Grima doesn’t pay them much mind. Chrom, however, can’t help but slow down to watch the other festival-goers. Some of the games are almost identical to ones he’s familiar with. Tossing rings at things transcends cultures, it seems. But other games are fascinatingly new to him. He watches in amusement as a several Hoshidan children attempt to catch fish with paper. They squeal delightedly when they catch the creatures and laugh when the paper inevitably breaks. Such good cheer lightens Chrom’s heart.

He’s just about to turn away when he suddenly finds his hand being crushed. He whirls around to face a fuming Grima.

“If you disappear again,” Grima growls, “Don’t even bother looking for me. I know the way home.”

“W-What?” Chrom exclaims. “What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about me turning around to find you gone!” Grima snaps. “Do you realize how many people are in attendance here? I have no desire to hunt you down. If you don’t feel like keeping up with me, I’ll just leave.”

“Oh, Grima…” Guilt burns in Chrom’s chest. It wasn’t abandonment, but it probably looked like it. “I apologize. I didn’t realize how far I’d fallen behind. Er, I got distracted…”

“Of course you did,” Grima mutters.

“Please stay,” Chrom says, holding up their still-entwined fingers. “The point of the festival is to share joy. If you leave, there’s no reason for me to be here.”

Grima somehow manages to squeeze Chrom’s hand even harder. It hurts a bit, but not nearly as much as the thought of Grima letting go. 

“Find me something to eat, and I’ll consider forgiving you,” he says. “Most of these so-called food items look more like arts and crafts than anything edible.”

“In some ways, I think the food is _meant_ to be art,” Chrom says. “But I’m sure there has to be something here to suit your tastes.”

This time, they walk with their hands clasped. Chrom can’t keep himself from smiling broadly. Unity, togetherness… It fits the spirit of the festival. 

But more importantly, Grima’s lips are also curved upwards in a smile. He is happy that they are together, too. That’s all Chrom wants: for Grima to be happy, and for Chrom to make him so.

Eventually, Grima decides that some fried balls of octopus look sufficiently appetizing, and Chrom happily orders them. He guesses by Grima’s snort that he mispronounces the word, but his meaning is obviously not lost, because he does in fact receive the savory-looking snack he asked for.

Grima insists that they stay where they’re standing until he’s finished eating. Probably because they have to disconnect their hands in order for Grima to hold onto his food.

Chrom has not stopped feeling guilty, but all he can think to do is to wrap an arm around Grima’s shoulders. He doesn’t know if Grima knows just how precious he is to him. He doesn’t know if Grima would want to hear it. He is a god; he has heard promises of devotion before, but those words have only served to hurt him. He does not trust human promises, and he would surely not believe Chrom’s words. If Chrom is to prove his commitment at all, it has to be through his actions.

Grima reaches up, threading a hand through Chrom’s hair. He is through with his meal now, and his lips glisten where he has licked them.

Perhaps Chrom focuses on his lips too much, or perhaps Grima was planning it anyway, but in an instant, Grima is yanking him down. Their mouths meet, but only briefly. Grima pulls away as quickly as he had leaned in.

“The fireworks should be starting soon,” Grima says, his cool tone belied by the flush in his cheeks. “I doubt we’ll get a good view with this crowd, but I would still like to observe them.”

“Ah…” Unbidden, a years-old image of burning ships on an ocean of flames comes to mind. “You like explosions, don’t you?”

Grima looks at him incredulously.

“I am a god of destruction,” he says. “What do you think?”

Chrom chuckles.

When Grima grabs his hand again, the two of them set off in the hopes of finding some clear spot to enjoy the fireworks. 

“Must they reserve so much space for candy?” Grima mutters. “This is third stand in a row that we’ve passed dedicated to the stuff.”

“Gaius would cry if he heard you say that,” Chrom says. “Have you even tried any?”

“No,” Grima sneers. “And I do not trust Gaius’s taste.”

“Well, do you trust mine?” Chrom asks. “Now that I think about it, it’s been some time since I’ve indulged in something so purely sweet…”

He eyes the nearest stall, then drags Grima over to it with him. He chooses a candy apple, which he can conveniently eat with one hand while the other remains in Grima’s grasp.

He takes a bite, savoring the sticky sweetness. Grima watches him expectantly.

“Is it any better than a regular apple?” he asks, clearly skeptical.

Chrom looks at the treat in front of him. It is almost exactly the same shade as Grima’s eyes.

“Find out for yourself,” he says, bringing the candy apple to Grima’s lips.

Grima narrows his eyes. But he will not back down from a challenge. Indeed, he takes a large bite. Chrom snorts as Grima chews, looking entirely unimpressed.

“It’s not _terrible,_ ” Grima admits. “But apples are sufficiently sweet on their own. This is just extravagance.”

The.extravagance is the fun part, but Chrom does not point this out.

“Should I take it you don’t want any more, then?” he asks, smirking because he is sure that Grima will insist on taking more of the offered food.

And he is correct; Grima takes another bite, though it is smaller this time.

Somewhere far behind them, a dull boom sounds. Colorful sparks fill the air, spreading out into fanciful patterns.

Grima huffs.

“This isn’t exactly the ideal position to be in,” he points out. “The stalls obscure much of the sky from here.”

True, they cannot see every explosion that sounds.

But…

“Is it really that bad, though?” Chrom asks. Red and gold bursts fly through the air far above them.

“No…” Grima says. He rests his head on Chrom’s shoulder, giving himself a better view of the sky as the fireworks change from red to blue. “It is not perfect... But it couldn’t be any better.”

And perhaps it is only to be expected at a summer festival, but Chrom feels incredibly warm.


End file.
